


Something Sweet

by ProphetessMinty



Series: The Dawning 2020 [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Day 1: Exodus, Destcember 2020 (Destiny), F/M, Gen, Humor, Infer Rogue Guardians, Post Season of Arrivals (Destiny), Slow Burn, The Dawning (Destiny)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProphetessMinty/pseuds/ProphetessMinty
Summary: Even in the midst of the bustle of the holiday season, there are still some Guardians struggling to find enough Light worth celebrating.
Relationships: Female Guardian & Male Guardian (Destiny)
Series: The Dawning 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076669
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Something Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Destiny or any part of the franchise; all rights and ownership belong to Bungie.
> 
> A/N: I am a liiiiiiiittle late on posting for the Destcember prompt because life and the holiday season happened. (Not that I'm complaining.) LOL xD I still want to jump in on such a fun idea and this is my first time joining the Destcember train. Whoop, whoop! Any who...here's the "Day 1: Exodus" prompt that I've been working on since the start of December. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~ProphetessMinty

**Something Sweet**

* * *

It was on the eve of December that a certain Dawnblade and her ghostly companion stood guard on the overpass looking down into the Tower’s courtyard. The Light-infused pair had observed Eva Levante and her small team of volunteers in quiet delight for the past hour. The team labored tirelessly as they planned and conquered their festooning galivant across the social space. 

Together, Eva and her supporters forsook their burdens for the harmony of unity, bonding in tight fellowship. As they worked, the idle chatter between them grew enthusiastically, arching in chortling staccatos. How infectious was their joy; a welcomed reprieve from the late night silence in the wake of the sleeping City. 

Here and there lengthy flags were lifted on newly assembled posts, bearing emblems reminiscent of frozen fractals embroidered in white. In several corners, groups of two or three stretched out long ropes of icicle lights, testing both their length and quality. While the strands were assessed for defect, another group seemed to be pointing and waving with purpose. The amused Warlock quickly deduced that all the ridiculous gesticulating was how their visionary efforts came alive. 

It simply could not be helped; the Dawning was too exciting.

Though no one could discern the Dawnblade’s expression from underneath her Winterhart Cover, Nailah was smiling jubilantly. Somehow seeing the merry regalia being unloaded from the plethora of storage trunks inspired the Warlock, igniting her spirit with hope. That same balminess radiated down into her hands, causing them to tingle with glee. 

While she reflected upon the many reasons for celebrating this resplendent season, Nailah absentmindedly glanced skyward toward the egg-like sphere hanging overhead. Since the time she was newly risen, Nailah wondered endlessly about the great entity—The Traveler—that loomed over the Last City. Her curious mind would toy with endless possibilities as to why it still hovered so comatose, oblivious to reality and its infinite causalities. 

Did the pearlescent giant shed its life in altruistic valor so that humanity might look upon a symbol of hope? That even though the nights grow dark, the dawn of early morning would bring the promise of new light. Perhaps nothing was so perfectly designed in life, negating the very idea of destiny in its entirety. If so, then what remained of such a grandiose behemoth was nothing more than a lustrous shell of what was. 

Nailah frowned instantly, disliking the nihilistic argument. Instead, she supplied herself with an ideological checkmate: she was merely human and knew not. Life is a mystery. Better to enjoy it like a gift and unwrap it with wonder, than to leave it unopened, discarded by apathy. The testament to this fact could be clearly gleaned from the Traveler’s newly coalesced form, its once fractured state now seamless—flawless. 

No one could have guessed the miracle of its rebirth. Existence could not be truly calculated down to the final aspect—“the end”. Even the Vex with all their complexly simulated algorithms could not determine the resolution of life nor the meaning thereof. Case in point, it is unfeasible. 

Nailah removed her helmet as her internal musings concluded and watched it dissolve away. “Thanks,” she mumbled to her ghostly companion. Wafer bobbed in the air, happy to be of service. The gold and toasted vanilla color of her Winter Lotus shell glinted for a moment before she too blinked out of existence. 

As Nailah gathered her royal blue skirts, she took a cautionary look around before twirling full circle. She felt about as regal as her wardrobe appeared, the fabric blossoming outward in the wind. Her giddy antics were not becoming of the standard prim-and-proper Warlock, but she could care less about that. She was mainly concerned with someone laughing at her, though it would not have been the first time.

With a sigh, Nailah ruffled the ebony mop of wavy hair atop her head. Suddenly she could feel drowsiness tugging at her eyes, trying to close like iron curtains. This drowsy lull was soon cast aside as she caught a whiff of something tantalizing on the night breeze. The pleasant aroma was a fusion of fried dough intermingled with chocolatey hazelnut. Nailah’s stomach growled forthwith, her mouth salivating with expectation.

Chuckling, the Warlock realized that she had somehow been classically conditioned. Everything about the setting had been just right: cold night, lights, pastries, chocolate, and Eva. Though she might have been a sucker to Pavlovian theory—coined by a Pre-Golden Age Russian psychologist, Ivan Pavlov—Nailah wasn't complaining.

Not one bit.

“Right this way, Jesse,” Eva coaxed encouragingly. “We can’t forget to give our night watch some treats.” 

Nailah could hear the clip-clop of shoes echoing up the nearby stairwell. Glancing in that direction, she observed an elder blonde woman and a tall Guardian egress from the ascending staircase. Though Eva had interlocked an arm with her companion for support, she appeared to be dragging him along like a warden and their inmate. Nailah chuckled; he was not escaping Eva anytime soon.

Soon her thoughts ran away as her eyes came to focus on the handmade basket in Eva’s other hand. It was weighed down with what Nailah believed were delectable treats. The Warlock could practically taste them already! Not trying to appear rude, much less greedy, the Dawnblade bowed in welcome. 

“Good evening, Ms. Levante,” she greeted warmly.

“Just ‘Eva’,” the woman smiled. “We’ve been close these many years. Surely, there is no need for such formalities by now?”

Nailah laughed, “Very well, Ms. Eva.”

“Warlocks,” she chuckled, quite entertained with whatever she was musing. “I never know when I’ll get a ‘Chocolate Ship–’ or an ‘Ascendant Oatmeal Raisin’ cookie. Thankfully, you are neither of those things, my dear. You are sweet and charming; always a joy to those who meet you.” 

Crossing the distance between them, Eva plucked a small, navy blue takeout box from her loaded wicker basket. It was about the size of her palm, sealed with curly ribbons that spilled out over the sides, and sparkled with glittery snowflakes. Nailah received the offering, grinning excitedly as she thought of what could possibly be concealed within.

“That is exactly why we—Jesse and me—have brought you some Traveler Donut holes and a cup of hot chocolate to enjoy them with,” Eva beamed. 

Turning toward her tall companion, Eva waited in anticipation for the Hunter’s contributions. Yet the Guardian appeared as aloof as a lethargic avian resting in the branches of a tree. His presence was subdued and blasé, adding to the glum appearance of his Exodus Down armor. The Warlock curiously observed Jesse for a moment, taking note of his response to social cues, or rather the lack thereof. Eventually, a frown whittled away at the smile she had worn. At first glance, the Hunter’s conduct came off as conceited and snobbish. However, the longer Nailah waited, she realized he was nothing short of distracted. Not having heard Eva—much less herself—Jesse folded his arms uncomfortably.

Shaking her head, Nailah grumbled internally as it seemed she met more and more apathetic Hunter-Guardians these days. It was as if the social-staple of this Lightbearing faction had some kind of hidden agenda as they exhibited this same peculiar detachment. Did it come with the job or did they truly believe it made them more interesting? Nailah was unsure.

Perhaps, this _Jesse_ was harmless enough as he did not radiate maliciousness in any way. His peradventure regarding social investment was blatantly hesitant; self-preserving as if he was wrestling with an army of old giants he had yet to conquer. Nevertheless, she was unimpressed by the emotive cloud that hung around him like a brooding cumulonimbus.

Smiling apologetically toward Nailah, Eva nudged Jesse with a harsh elbow to the ribs. 

“Jesse, dear,” the woman intoned merrily while ignoring his gasp of exasperation. “Hand over the cup I gave you. I’m sure Nailah would appreciate having it with her treats.” As if spurred by motherly duty, Eva quickly added, “And don’t be rude! Introduce yourself.”

“Sorry, Eva. I got—”

“Distracted? Yes, I know, dear,” the elder woman soothed. “You’ve been like that since I found you—wait—where’s the hot chocolate?”

“What hot chocolate?” Jesse asked, genuinely confused. “I don’t remember—”

“Oh my!” Eva exclaimed. Putting an exasperated hand to her head, she sighed dramatically. “I forgot to give it to you, didn’t I?”

Turning to leave, Jesse said, “No worries, I’ll go get it.”

“No!” Eva cried, suddenly frazzled. “No—no. I mean…I’ll go get it. Don’t move. I’ll be back before long.” 

Nailah shook her head with a knowing smirk and watched as the woman scurried away in a cloud of feigned melodramatics. Eva was obviously planning something; of that fact she had no doubt. Nailah surmised that the reason was because Eva believed people-in-need should enjoy her wise and trustworthy counsel. Not that she thought herself head and shoulders above the rest. Rather, it was like a sort of payment for the kindness Nailah had extended toward Eva one lonely holiday long ago.

At that time, Eva used to steep in holiday-depression. She was lonely for she had no loved ones to celebrate with, and her heart was bursting with unshared affection. Ever since their fateful conversation, Eva came to realize the bigger picture: that sharing hope _is_ a worthwhile investment with all peoples far and wide. To kindle the dwindling pyres of those who straddle the twilight zone between day and night; to rescue those who wrestle endlessly against rulers and principalities on all levels of life; and to unite with those strong in the cause for life, liberty, and happiness.

Coming to the end of her reverie, Nailah found that Jesse had walked off some time ago to sit on a pile of nearby crates. With one leg propped up, the Hunter-Guardian rested his elbow on his thigh while supporting his head against his fist. His shoulders sagged as an aura of deep melancholy oppressed him like a ghost of nightmare past.

Unsure of how to comfort him, Nailah walked forward and opened her present. Just like Eva had said, beneath all the glitter and festive ribbons were glazed donuts made with love. She took in a long whiff and sighed with satisfaction as she took up residence on the pile of crates next to Jesse. Nailah popped a donut into her mouth shortly before sliding the deep fried pastries his way.

They remained there in total silence for what seemed like hours but was in fact ten and a half minutes by the Warlock’s count. Nailah was content to simply be in the moment, acting as a source of patient solace. She never bothered to make eye contact, fearing that the Hunter would feel rushed. She did not go out of her way to ask him how he was feeling. Why try to drag out his personal emotions if he was unwilling to freely share what he had bottled up?

There was no point.

After a while, Jesse began to fidget and squirm. He seemed mildly uncomfortable with the quietude, as if all his thoughts had become loud and unbearable. Perhaps, that was not the case. Maybe he was disturbed by her unwelcomed presence? Yet, he had not bid her leave.

As if he sensed her waning confidence, he plucked a donut hole from the takeout box and inspected it briefly. Whatever had caught Jesse’s scrutiny seemed to flutter away as he began rolling the ball of sugary dough between his gauntlets. Nailah noted his tacit behavior, realizing the Hunter was on the precipice of choosing his next course of action. Just as his hands stilled, Jesse hung his head.

Sighing, he blurted, “They left me behind, every single one of them.”

“ _Who_ left?” she asked, her shapely brows furrowing in swift confusion.

“My clan—the Iron Regents. We were a small group, about twenty of us, but we were like family,” he clarified while lowering his head into his hands. Suddenly, the helmet he was wearing melted away, dematerializing in a soft blue light. His hair was short and dark, hosting an unmistakable scar that ran from his hairline down to the bass of his neck. “Or so I thought.” 

Nailah’s eyes fell to the ground, not quite sure what to make of the damaged tissue or the story he was recounting. Though his explanation was an unraveling enigmatic mess, the Warlock began piecing together the reasons behind his previous aloofness. First and foremost, he was struggling with loss—grief. It was like he was in mourning.

Hesitantly, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. She was unsure of what to expect, but was surprised when Jesse had not shrugged off her touch. Alas, it appeared he was soaking in every ounce of kindness like how flora bathes in the rays of golden sunlight. He was desperately searching for a drop of grace, anything that would soothe the pit of despair rising from within his soul. 

“I was afraid to admit it early on, but the Iron Regents began changing when the Pyramid ships arrived.” Popping the donut into his mouth, Jesse mulled over his thoughts before chuckling humorlessly. “You know—we never fought before then—not once. We were a tightknit group. Solidly matched. Totally cohesive.”

The Hunter promptly raked his hands over his face before turning to look at Nailah. His eyes were narrow and hooded, striking like a bird’s critical gaze, but full of great care. This was the only detail that mattered to Nailah, instantly mesmerized by their intensity.

“With all that we as a clan had been through,” he explained, “I thought that nothing—absolutely nothing—would make me doubt them.”

“What changed your mind?” The Dawnblade coaxed, working to push past her silly observations.

“Duncan—our leader—had been off kilter for a while since coming back from a mission on Luna. No one spoke about what happened but…my best guess is that they were sworn to secrecy. I had no knowledge of his strangeness until he flipped like a switch one day.” Jesse stood after a moment and began to pace, his cloak flapping behind him.

“Supposedly, he had a brush with the Darkness and he just couldn’t shake it off,” he said, adjusting his shoulders with a shake. “Duncan would work himself into explosive fits, yelling about how it was impossible to win the war between light and dark. It was like he went mad and one-by-one his strangeness infected the others. With the Traveler broken in dead orbit, and our enemy closing in, he said we were on the wrong side. The losing side that is.”

“For a while, we could table the subject,” Jesse continued, “Beat around the bush by taking off on simple bounties or taking on odd-jobs. Can’t talk about what you’re not around for. Am I right?”

“Eventually that breathing room vanished,” Nailah inferred questioningly, “correct?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “I had been dodging their doubts about me, giving open-ended answers that would only appease them for a short time. I kept looking the other way, hoping that we’d go back to normal. We never did.” With a growl, he chastised himself, “It was so stupid of me!”

“ _Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh?”_ Nailah thought to herself while scratching the back of her neck. Suddenly, the Dawnblade felt anxiously queasy as she eyed Eva’s donuts. Pushing them away, she asked, “How did you deal with it?”

“That’s the thing—I couldn’t—I didn’t. There wasn’t any time. Our clan had been selected to help in salvage and evacuation operations on the vanished planets.” Rubbing his eye, he added, “I didn’t know this was all a part of their plan. They were done playing for the Light and despite the risk of enemy invasion, they stayed behind.”

Nailah’s stomach plummeted forthwith and she could hardly breathe as her heart thumped with dread. “You’re not saying they—” The Warlock could not bear to continue airing her train of thought as she was rendered speechless. The Iron Regents went rogue, and somehow repeating their transgression in the open felt like a special kind of taboo. Nailah hugged herself, unwilling to accept what she had heard.

“Shortly before we were to deploy, Duncan called me aside for a one-on-one,” Jesse recounted. “I didn’t know it, but everyone had already agreed to follow him. No questions asked. I was the odd man out and according to Duncan, I had to pay for my crime. My…hesitation.” The Hunter-Guardian quit pacing and took his place atop a stack of crates across from Nailah.

“What did he do?” the Warlock asked, genuine worry contorting her face into a serious expression.

“That turncloak shot me and went after my Ghost. If it wasn’t for Stella’s quick thinking, we’d both be dead. She managed to escape and hide, but it was a day later before she could revive me. When I woke up, our clan’s den had been reduced to ashes and the emblem on my right pauldron had been purposely scorched.” As if to illustrate his point, Jesse turned and motioned to the scarred plate. “I could have had Stella patch it, but…”

Nailah cringed and averted her gaze as tears began to well up in her eyes.

“That’s awful,” she managed to say after a moment.

“I’m honestly having a hard time figuring out _why_ I should be happy this Dawning,” he moped, leaning his head into his hands. “What’s the point? All good things come to an end.”

“Not necessarily,” Nailah replied gently. “It’s all about the focus—the angle of perspective. Your line of sight gives you a very narrow vantage point. Outside that vector, those around you see a different picture. Their realm of view is completely unique and separate; enabling them to counsel with a fresh set of eyes.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘opti-nauts’ I’ve heard so much about,” Jesse said in jest. Though his words seemed dry and humorless, the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth told a different story. Nailah could not resist the urge to smirk at his teasing, finding it mildly charming.

“Fresh set of eyes, huh?” The Hunter seemed to ponder this concept for a moment, chewing on its various meanings before asking, “What then—might I ask—do _your_ eyes see?”

This time it was Nailah’s turn to stand up and pace, her robes undulating about her in a flurry of royal blue fabric. The Dawnblade ran through her mind, performing a swift mental query that she might counter his arguments with her own. Taking her time, the Warlock stopped in her tracks and pointed upward. “Look up there, what do you see?”

Jesse stood and turned, his eyes focusing on the place where Nailah pointed towards. Up in its skyward perch, slumbered an inscrutable behemoth of Light, its once fractured shell sown together perfectly whole. 

“Umm…is this a trick question?” he asked, his voice tight with skepticism. “It’s just the Traveler.”

“No trick questions here. What _about_ the Traveler do you see?” the Warlock quickly assured, pressing forward purposefully.

“What can I say? It doesn’t do much but sit there recharging our Ghosts’ batteries,” Jesse reasoned sarcastically while running a hand through his hair. “And it’s drastically behind on rent.”

Though Jesse was intending to be humorous, the Dawnblade could practically feel the discomfort laced inside his words. Promptly thereafter, the Warlock frowned like a teacher with their wiseacre student. How could she possibly impart sound wisdom upon someone who was obviously suffering from a form of poignant trauma?

The problem did not necessarily lie with the message itself—for she already knew what she wanted to say—but in _how_ it could be effectively conveyed. Nailah could broadcast many a soapbox sermon at a moment’s notice. She could spout a plethora of facts interlaced with philosophical arguments. But no matter how compelling the particulars she could lose the ability to counsel someone who’s hurts outweighed the intellectual explanations. Nailah truly was straddling the fine-line between correcting and edifying.

Reminding herself to continue meekly, Nailah walked over to the balcony railing and leaned against it casually. Making sure to appear socially disarmed, the Warlock gazed upon the Traveler. Just as Nailah was about to speak, she found that Jesse had joined alongside her. At first, she was shocked, but that astonishment melted away as she realized he _had_ taken her question seriously. His comments were not sarcastic jabs, he was merely redirecting the sting of reality.

How could she have taken him so lightly?

“When I look upon the Traveler, I see miles of possibility—I see favor,” Nailah began. A genuine smile slid onto her lips, a sort of timeless cheer radiating from her soul. “There _is_ hope and the testament to this fact rests in its new restoration.” Lifting a hand to the air, Nailah pretended to touch and caress the globular behemoth in the sky. Often, she wondered how it would feel to touch its mysterious surface, to know the pulse of its life with her own hands.

Tonight, more than ever, she wished for her dream to come true.

“There are no more fissures,” she said, dropping her hand. “It is perfectly seamless. Pray tell, how can this be if for so long humanity only convinced itself of just this _one_ perspective—of _one_ side of the argument?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jesse stammered, “I’ve never thought of it that way.”

Nailah nodded thoughtfully.

Jesse scoffed at his weak argument, “I guess my growing doubts surround the fact that the Traveler _had_ come to life and saved us seconds before great destruction. Yet, its Light was not enough to extend to all, but only to some.” Jesse gripped the railing tightly, the material of his gauntlets squeaking against the metal. “If it truly cared enough about us to send the Ghosts, then why does it let all these Darkness-induced evils persist?”

Offering a consoling smile, Nailah said, “What is life without its pressures? What is choice without its consequence? We are all diamonds in the rough; waiting for the time to be exhumed, cut, and polished. Until that hour comes, these great pressures squeeze and press us on all sides. Examining our integrity, sorting the difference between the wavering and the enduring. For if we are as coal, then the best of us—those who withstood the trials—are precious jewels.”

“You didn’t exactly answer my question,” he sighed exasperatedly, hanging his head with disappointment.

“I cannot tell you the mind of what I do not know,” the Warlock answered. “But I do know this: The Light within us, imparted by the Traveler, can always shine brighter than the Darkness can ever hope to snuff out.” Nailah quickly dug out a small box of matches from the folds of her robes. Opening the flimsy container, she withdrew a red-tipped stick and struck it against the box. Suddenly the sliver of wood erupted into a bright flame.

“Ever study a match and its flame?” the Dawnblade asked with excited curiosity. With tender care, she cupped her hand around the lit match and walked over toward the crates. Kneeling, Nailah removed her hand and watched as the flame flickered and danced. Just as Jesse came to stoop to her left, she shot him a grin. “Look at the shadows, what do you see?”

Jesse observed thoughtfully as he leaned both to the left and to the right.

“There’s all kinds of refracted shadow,” he muttered.

“How about the light source?” Nailah asked excitedly.

“I just said there’s refract—wait—the flame itself doesn’t have a shadow,” he backtracked, clearly astonished.

“Bingo!” she beamed.

“Do Warlocks usually say that kind of phrase? ‘Bingo’?” He chuckled, “You’re weird.”

“Do Hunters usually wear low-tier armor like the Exodus Down Suit?” Nailah quipped defensively as she shot him a sassy look that screamed ‘try-me’. Jesse held up his hands in clear defeat before Nailah blew out the flame. She could smell the smoke wafting in the air between them while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Flecks of bright color spotted her vision, slowly disappearing with time.

“Ironically, _we_ use the Light to see. We are intrinsically accustomed to its beneficial properties. Yet, as we sit here in the dark, our eyes are trying to make sense of what it cannot see,” the Warlock explained. “The Dark likes to hide what surrounds us, sapping us of the ability to visually sense the dangers that lurk in our midst. While it gnaws at us, the body slowly breaks down and the mind eventually succumbs to insanity in the greatest of darkness.”

“Without faith, your flame will be easily snuffed,” she expounded. “With faith, your flame is continually kindled.”

“Alright, alright. Enough sorcery for one night,” he chuckled, running his hands nervously through his hair.

Nailah laughed with him, a flash of delight coursing through her as his spirits seemed minutely lifted. Any progress was better than no progress and she would take what she could get. Rising off the ground, the Warlock straightened her robes and sat on the crates. While she grabbed up the box of donuts, Jesse sat beside her.

“Thanks for your…intellectual…encouragement,” he said, struggling to formulate a coherent thought. “It was like attending a briefing but better. Seven out of ten Hunters would recommend.” 

Nailah chucked a donut hole at him in reply while mumbling something snarky under her breath. Being the agile Hunter that he was, Jesse leaned forward and caught the fried pastry in his mouth. Grinning like a fox, he winked, and started chewing.

Nailah rolled her eyes.

Just as their chatter had died down to an awkward silence, strands of bright, white light erupted in the courtyard below. The Warlock stood to her feet while hugging the box of donuts closely to herself and walked to the balcony to see the newly festive social space. Everything was aglow in winter wonder between the snow and the lights.

Popping a donut into her mouth, Nailah sighed. 

“You must really like this time of year,” Jesse observed from beside her. The Warlock jumped suddenly as she was repelled from her own little world, having not realized that he followed alongside her once more. Giving him a quick once over, Nailah looked away as she shoved another pastry into her mouth. As she did this, a bolt of nervousness ran through her. Immediately, she felt shamefully silly. They had talked all this time, comfortable as could be, and suddenly she was smitten.

“Mhmm,” she mummed, still anxiously chewing on her delicious treats.

“With all this talk about lights and hope, what’s _your_ reasoning for celebrating the Dawning?” Jesse asked.

Nailah grinned, “Besides all the fun of old traditions, this time of year reminds me why it’s important to live.”

“Oh?” he questioned. Leaning against the railing, he propped his head up with a fist, smooshing his cheek ever so slightly. Nailah worked to ignore his absentmindedly, endearing manner while she pondered her next words. Plucking a donut hole from the box, the Warlock inspected its coat of glaze. Noting that this particular morsel was spared a decent lathering of sugar, she dropped it into the box.

“To inspire others whose flames are dwindling to come into the daylight and find rest. To remind those who fight the good fight that just because the road looks dark, does not mean there is no light overhead.” Digging around the remaining donuts, Nailah plucked up another and inspected it as well. Finding it worthy of her palate, she popped it into her mouth.

“In short,” she said, managing uncouthly to speak around the bite of food, “just like the Dawning lights, I want to remind others that there _is_ a better message than doom and gloom.”

“Wow!” Jesse chuckled. “That sounds much more epic than my earlier drivel.”

“If it affects you, then it _is_ important,” Nailah reassured.

“Yeah, well, it usually doesn’t,” he shrugged.

Nailah shook her head, “You Hunters, ever the same bravado and tough-guy creed. Just like you explained earlier through your circumstances, unsolved problems cause greater problems when left unattended.”

“Maybe,” he cheeked coyly. “Or maybe I like to live life on the edge.”

“So…you claim to be an edge-lord?” Nailah teased just as Jesse popped a donut into his mouth. The Hunter sputtered, practically choking on the Warlock’s quick wit. She laughed, “Sadly, your station in life only has room for one. No wonder the Hunter-Guardian numbers dwindle so precariously.”

“Are all Dawnblades baked with sassafras?” he managed after a moment. Coughing one last time, Jesse slapped his chest. “Good grief! Eva was right. You’re no Chocolate Ship or Ascendant Oatmeal Raisin. I think these donuts were a lie.” Chuckling, he jested, “You’re as explosive and unpredictable as a Gjallardoodle; sharp as Vanilla Blades; and shocking like Radiolarian Pudding. You’re one strange cookie!”

“Eva said otherwise,” Nailah retorted with feigned offense.

“Yeah, she said you were ‘sweet’ and ‘charming’ but so far you’ve managed to nearly kill me on several occasions,” Jesse laughed.

“Me? A poor Warlock?” she playfully frowned while holding a hand to her chest. “That is really unbecoming of an intellectual such as myself. If anything, you might pass out from my—what did you call it?—briefings.” 

Nailah and Jesse laughed themselves silly, enjoying each other’s company. Even well after their giggling fits died out, they felt a peaceful resonance between them. It manifested in a shared gaze that brought them closer. Realizing they were slowly starting to lean toward each other, Nailah jolted upright blushing redder than New Monarchy.

“Speaking of Eva!” she blurted rather frazzled. “Where did that silly woman run off to?”

Jesse followed suit, jumping to the flats of his feet, looking like he had just been electrified. “Yeah, where did she go?”

“Oi! You two,” someone yelled. “Clock out! It’s already 0300. Go get some shuteye.” The Lightbearing pair flinched at the arrival of new company but bolted with individual thankfulness as they ran away from their mutual embarrassment. Jogging down the stairs, they walked past Banshee’s small smithy outlet, and into the courtyard. As they walked onto the main platform, Nailah and Jesse erupted in nervous chuckles like two teenagers caught in trouble.

“There you are!” Eva called. Nailah and Jesse quickly looked toward the underpass in the direction of the hangar. Eva stood next to a makeshift buffet table, pouring steaming hot chocolate into matching disposable cups. “I’m sorry, dears, but I got distracted handing out goodies; warming the hearts of the people.” Just as the elder blonde finished putting lids onto the cups, she walked over to the pair and handed them their long-awaited drinks.

“All is well, Ms. Eva,” the Dawnblade nodded with thanks.

Jesse did likewise while keeping the Warlock in his sight.

Eva caught the look, her brow arching ever so subtly before she held her hands over her core. She smiled brightly, “I must get back to my baking. But please, enjoy each other and the food. After all, it’s the first day of the Dawning.” As she turned to walk away, Eva yelled, “Very Merry Dawning to you both.”

The Warlock and Hunter shared a knowing look, and as they sipped on their hot chocolate, their hearts filled with warmth.


End file.
